Fingers
by quoththeraven5
Summary: *Episode tag to the Christmas Special 2014* The dream crabs grabbed Stiles - the dream crabs need to rethink their strategy


Everyone is screaming, guns are pointed at strangers and monsters are falling from the ceiling. Lt. Stilinski, head of communications on their little North Pole research center, forgot his gun in the conference room; so he opted to stand menacingly in the back, like a boss (at least that was what he hoped he was projecting in a 'boss'-like manner).

He was trying to remain calm and could not get the feeling that what he needed at this moment was a baseball bat, out of his head; whilst his compatriots fled out of the room, the Lieutenant closely behind. Once they reached the control center of the base, Lt. Stilinski took stock of their new guests. Of whom seemed to be taking control of the situation rather quickly; a loudmouth Scotsman, a young woman in pajamas, two small men with pointed ears, and a man with more than a passing resemblance to Santa Claus. The lieutenant shoved the surprise and disbelief of _Santa Claus_ into a small corner of his mind entitled "Weird Shit to be Dealt with Later" (for some reason he could not help but think that particular corner should be a lot bigger and more muddled then it currently was).

"You" a thick Scottish accent cut through the lieutenant's train of thought, "What's your job here?"

The lieutenant straightened in proper military manner, or at least tried to but for some reason he just couldn't get the straight faced mannerisms down, "I am Lieutenant Stilinski of the American Airforce over seeing communications at this research center." That didn't sound right at all, the lieutenant felt off kilter, that did not sound like him and yet he could not place his finger on why… _fingers, something about fingers_.

"Ah, an American," the Scotsman scoffed, Stilinski tried to muster up a bristle of irritation, but something still felt off, almost familiar. He decided to wander toward Shona and Santa Claus (something is really wrong here, he should more surprised more _something_!). The others were in deep conversation about whatever those monsters were, they didn't need his input. And besides, Santa Claus was far more interesting than any alien suck-face things; I mean _Santa Claus_, how could he not be interested.

"But how do the reindeer fly? That's not possible!" Shona was busily writing down notes as she asked.

Before Santa could answer, Stilinski found himself opening his mouth and words just fell out, "Of course it's not possible, he feeds them magic carrots."

Both Shona and Santa Claus gave him matching looks of confusion, he really needed to work on the mouth filter thing. On the plus side, he was feeling more in touch with what was happening than he had for this entire expedition.

The moment ended when Santa gave a hefty 'ho-ho' and said, "You are absolutely right young man, where did you learn that?"

The lieutenant gave a goofy smile to the man, "Oh I just open my mouth and words come out, no idea where that came from."

"Clara!" the loud Scotsman got even louder as his voice reverberated through the compound. The others ran to the control center instantly; the lieutenant paused to grab a large wrench from a nearby toolbox. It wasn't a baseball bat, but it certainly made him feel better as he followed his compatriots.

The Doctor woke up with a loud gasp and quickly scrubbed the dream crab off his face as it disintegrated. His only thoughts for Clara beside him, _wake up wake up_! "Clara, Breath, breath!"

Clara gasped beside him, shaking as the crab fell to dust, "It was just a dream." Maybe if she kept saying that it wouldn't hurt so much.

The Doctor stared at his friend in concern as the scientists around him moved to examine the remains of the dream crabs. How could he have missed that Danny had died? So _stupid!_ If only he looked, if only he paid more attention, if only –

"So these dreams," a young American voice cut through his train of thought, "They felt real when you were in them - they didn't feel any different?"

It was the young lieutenant that spoke, the Doctor couldn't help but notice how out of place the young man seemed to be. The lad stood in an almost awkward slouch, but his feet were placed as if in preparation for running and dodging. There was nothing military in his mannerisms either; and frankly the Doctor was almost too afraid to ask why he was carrying an oversized wrench like a security blanket.

It was Clara the answered, "Yeah, why?"

The lieutenant_, Balinski?_, answered, "Well, if you couldn't tell if you were dreaming, how can you tell if you're awake?"

"Excellent question Balinski," the Doctor felt a good rant coming on, "How –

"It's Stiles" the Doctor paused at the interruption and watched in apprehension as the lieutenant's face seemed to go through the expressions for surprise, fear, anger, and hysterical all at once. How could a human face even do that?

"Oh shit… it's Stiles, my name is Stiles"

The Doctor huffed in annoyance, humans, "Yes, your point?"

"My name is Stiles Stalinski, I am not a lieutenant in the air force," the lad's eyes seemed to take on a manic gleam, "I am a high school student from Beacon Hills, California and this is a dream!"

And with his last yell, the late Lieutenant Stalinski of the United States' Air force disappeared; leaving the control room in the chaos of panic and confusion.

The Doctor woke up again with a gasp, he was really getting tired of this, and clambered to his feet; the others getting up beside him. Before him stood the Lieutenant, "You're still here, I thought you said you were a high school student."

The young man, he was a boy more than anything really, smiled widely, "Well yeah, I'm the intern."

"At the north pole."

It was the Professor that answered, "Of course, he won a competition, very impressive." And with those words it all made perfect sense; the crabs must have latched onto the lad's dreams of the future and presented him with an aspired job already achieved.

The Doctor smiled grimly, well at least they were out of the dreams again, time to get Clara and get out.

" – he won a competition – "

Something wasn't right, Stile's didn't have time to do any scholarly competitions and his dad would never let him go to the North Pole. Especially after the Mexico incidents, hell, Stiles wouldn't let Stiles go to the North Pole; and now he was referring to himself in the third person… great.

The strange Scottish guy was getting up and seemed to be leaving, everyone was happy and smiling; they were all out and free. But something still wasn't right, Stiles just couldn't put his finger one it.

_Fingers…._ "Holy shit, the fingers!"

" – fingers!"

The Doctor paused at the door and turned, it was the American lad again, "What is it?"

The boy looked to him with manic eyes, "Fingers, you count the fingers, you have extra fingers in dreams."

"What? That is the most ridiculous thing –"

The Stilinski boy held up his hand, he had six fingers, "We're still dreaming."

Stiles woke up with a gasp and quickly fell out of his bed onto the floor, creepy crab thing already disintegrating before his eyes. He held up his hands; five and five all there and no extra. Stiles breathed in a few more times going over everything in his head. Everything felt alright, no feelings of strangeness lingering. All he had was a head ache, thank god…

He got up and started heading down stairs, with his dealings with the Nogitsune he felt pretty good about his 'Weird shit-o-meter'. And this didn't even hit a four.


End file.
